


Fall

by clavash



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Can be read as RobRae, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, The anxiety bits are only in the last third, Trust, but I think they deserve some tagging, but if you're happy i'm happy so read it how you will, but really was intended to be platonic, dick grayson has anxiety, implied anxiety disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavash/pseuds/clavash
Summary: I won't let you fall.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Raven
Kudos: 28





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I get so confused with formatting my writing in the first place, transferring it over to AO3 is an absolute nightmare. Lemme know how I can format better.  
> \---  
> I've been meaning to write some dick-fic (hehehahehheh) and had written part of a draft for paranoid Dick post-Ric post-Court post-brainwashing (y'know, that whole mess) but then my brain switched gears and now I'm super nostalgic for TTA. In particular Robin and Raven's relationship. They really know each other better than anyone else. Between watching your buddy's near-fatal hallucinations and carrying your pal outta hell, I guess that was bound to happen. But I love it. So I wrote it. But I didn't just want to throw a brief vignette into the void, so I added a little.
> 
> Portrayal of anxiety inspired by my own personal spirals of dumb thoughts being over-thought.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t let you fall.”

Mary Grayson’s sparkling blue eyes met his own where they stood on the trapeze platform. This was his first time practicing a proper routine and, despite how he puffed out his little chest and furrowed his brow, Dick was a little scared. He’d swung from platform-to-platform in smaller set-ups, he’d practiced back-flips and somersaults on padded ground, as far as the six-year-old was concerned, he’d done it all.

...Except rely on someone else to throw him to another 20-feet-up. Hardly high enough to make a proper Flying Grayson act, but more than he’d ever done.

John Grayson, who, at some point in his circus-borne life must have picked up lip-reading, shouted across from the other platform, “I won’t let ya either, bug!”

That was certainly enough encouragement for the young boy. That dreaded word--  _ bug _ .

_ Soft chuckles. My little robin. _

_ An undignified snort. Robin? Honey, lookit him. He’s got a while to go to be a bird. I’m thinkin’... cricket. _

_ Baby blue glare. Calloused hand ruffling hair. Barely-concealed tinkling laughter. _

Yeah, The Great Richard Grayson wouldn’t stand for an insult like that.

His mother smiled at his apparent resolve, nodded to her husband, and began to arrange herself in front of the trapeze bar. -- As always, the routine went off as planned, Mary and John doing a couple swings to ensure they’d built up proper momentum. As Mary swung back for her third swing, she reached out and took firm hold of her son’s small wrists. With the proper timing, he leapt with her back-swing and enjoyed the feeling of going up, up,  _ up _ .

An extra swing to confirm timing, and he was tossed to his father. Their wrists bumped, hands began to encircle, and--

_ Missed. _

The Graysons may be professionals, but they were having to relearn with a third member in their routine. It was a fumble. An accident.

_ And _ , Dick mused, as the wind was knocked out of him by the net,  _ a complete and utter betrayal. _

Perhaps not truly. But to a child, it only seemed his parents had lied.

* * *

“Robin!” The Dark Knight barked, rain-soaked glove grabbing his own as he went over the edge.

Dick’s grappling device was busted. Completely.

It had happened before, they knew what to do.

But it didn’t happen often, and Gotham’s fearless bird felt dread sink in deep.

A second hand, large and gauntlet-bound, took tighter hold of his arm, and beneath lensed eyes and an intricate alias, Dick saw his guardian’s eyes soften.

“I won’t let you fall.”

He wouldn’t. He never would. Dick took comfort in that.

Until a soft  _ click _ sounded and the ignored perp on the adjacent roof-top took aim at Dick’s head.

_ Bruce… no. Please? _

__ The twelve-year-old saw a million thoughts go through the Bat’s head in the span of a second before a slippery sound accompanied his sudden drop. Then the dull  _ crack _ of his shoulder dislocating as he managed to grab at a wet windowsill.

He shimmied his way towards a fire-escape and hung on, all the while watching his guardian tackle their target and put him in cuffs (with a few more blows than was strictly necessary, for fatherhood’s sake.)

The Bat and the Bird knew how the other ticked. They knew how to properly calculate an outcome and predict their partner’s likely moves. Batman would never let Robin fall unless he knew for certain that he would be okay (fractures and scrapes aside, if it was the better option.) Everyone knew this. The famed dynamic duo knew this. Dick  _ knew _ this.

…

The ride home that night was dead silent.

* * *

A sixteen-year-old bird roamed the halls of the tower musing to himself all the while.

_ Would it be wrong of me to take the name Nightwing? It’s Kryptonian in nature, and God knows I’m not Kryptonian. And even if I was, that’d be like taking the name Jesus right? Hard on the J… or maybe it’d be good to continue on the legacy. A symbol of the pride of Krypton to live on. Or maybe it’d be rude. Maybe-- maybe I should call Clark.  _ **_Maybe you should call Bruce._ ** _ Yeah, no, not gonna happen. _

He continued his deliberation all the way to the living area, where he poured out a cup of coffee and mumbled out half-completed thoughts. Those thoughts drifted, back and forth like salt in the waves. So many things to worry about.

_ Where’s Slade? What’s he up to? How’s Bruce? Should I care? He replaced me. Alfred must miss me. I miss Alfred. How’s BB dealing with Terra? Should I talk to him? Should I-- _

Robin huffed in frustration and took a sip of his coffee. Way too sweet to be just a morning pick-me-up. Just how he liked it. Chock-full of creamer and sugar with a caramel drizzle and, this early in the morning, no one to judge him.

Simple pleasures. Relaxation. The last of the stars gently twinkling out to start the sunrise.

…

__ _ This much sugar is bad for me. I should really cut back. Take it easy, asshole, do you think you’re immortal? How about straight-black-coffee? Then maybe your friends would think you were cool. You just loooove that, don’t you? Soak it up. Bask in it. Attention-whore. I bet-- _

No no no. Not again. Not right now.

It felt like voices in his head. Layered over each other. One recounted issues in his relationships. One reminded him of overdue paper-work. Another continued rambling about hero names. Yet another outright insulted him.

“Fresh air,” he mumbled, “fresh air will help.”

Robin took another sip of his coffee and set a brisk pace to the roof.

\---

Upon opening the door there was an immediate rush of relief. Cold morning wind whipped over his face and shocked his senses, freezing his racing brain where it stood. He lifted his head and took a deep breath in, tasting polluted air and the natural funk of the sea.

Disgusting. But home. Comfortable.

Several moments passed as he took measured breaths.  _ In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Again, two, three, four. Out, two, three, f-- _

“Good morning, Richard.”

Robin would never admit he was capable of making as meek a sound as he did. A little  _ squeak _ of surprise. He almost blushed, but quickly recovered. He was in the presence of a friend, and the one who knew him best of all, no need to be humiliated.

“Raven.” He acknowledged.

She nodded back, then returned her attention to the horizon. The half-demon floated some feet away from the edge of the tower, nothing but her own will suspending her above crashing waves and hard, sharp rocks many feet below.

He really shouldn’t have been so surprised to see her out here. It was no secret she often watched the sun rise and set. She claimed it was the best environment she knew for meditation.

Meditation.

Yeah.

Robin took long strides over to the edge of the tower and sat, legs folded over each other. He set his coffee to the side and rested his palms on his legs, shutting his eyes and focusing on his breathing. He hadn’t done this in years, but found it incredibly easy to sink back into that trance-like peace.

Even as dark magicks tugged him up and over the edge of the tower to float beside Raven.

“Better view here,” she murmured, sparing him not even a glance.

Robin hummed and returned to his meditation. Felt a light brush at his mind.

_ I won’t let you fall. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  


_...I know. _


End file.
